Betrayer, murderer, liar, spy.
He was very familiar with these words. They had been accusations, curses thrown at him for his apparent involvement in the fall of once powerful lords. He remembered them so well and yet he didn’t. His memory, foggy yet decipherable, told him of his prior life and a chaotic one at that. His lip twitched somewhat as he stared off into the distance and recalled, vaguely, what had happened. A leader, wishing to purge, or clean up, or just… fight, he couldn’t remember precisely what, had cleared out his sanctuary, removed everyone that was associated with him from its records and left himself the sole resident of it.
He had been left without a home, without family for a time. It was a short time as another sanctuary had eventually taken him in and gave him shelter. He was thankful for it, as he had nowhere else to turn. It was unfortunate that it became the target of his unhinged former leader’s war path. He had held his head up high throughout the accusations as one after another fell. Many believed he had something to do with it, believed that he was giving information out. To what end, to what goal he never found out. He endured the suspicious looks, the questions, the anger.
In the end, it mattered not, as he found himself facing down the tip of an assassins blade. He was told of his crime, of what the bounty had been placed on him for. And though he denied it, tried to tell his side of the story, none would listen. They chose to believe what was easiest to believe. That he was a traitor, a spy. He accepted his fate at that point, and to the blade he fell.
And yet, as he stares at the mirror polish surface of a pocket watch in his hand, he found himself wondering. Why had he come back? Why was he here? His thumb came up and depressed the button near the dial, the face popped open, revealing the ticking hands of time, “Never enough.” He muttered. He was fairly certain that eventually, someone would recognize him, that they would want to hunt him down and end him for his perceived past transgressions. There would be no questions asked, no words exchanged. They would hold onto what they thought was truth and have nothing else.
He didn’t want to be a part of this damnable war again, he was perfectly fine being dead. But it seemed fate had other plans for him. With a snap-click, he closed the pocket watch and tucked it back into his heavy coat and glanced around the streets of Tokyo. Busy and bustling as always. He could at least get his bearings, learn about the current political climate of the realm and get his feet under him.
Then eventually, he would seek sanctuary. He would find a new home to live within. Hopefully make new friends and… with any luck, wash away the past. He had no lust for power, fame or fortune. He merely wanted to exist again, and to live without the burden of the war, of the past, of his false crimes, bearing down upon his shoulders.
It’s so very easier said than done.
Oh what the future may hold.